


Barista

by Red_City



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Stiles, Blushing, Blushing Derek, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Cute, Embarrased, Fluff, Give me your number, M/M, Phone number, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hella fucking gay, super cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_City/pseuds/Red_City
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek steps in to get some coffee, but doesn't expect to get a date.</p>
<p>Based off of this post:<br/>http://mercy-over-justice.tumblr.com/post/85339827018/brolininthetardis-this-is-a-coffeeshop-au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barista

Derek didn’t look up from his phone as he entered the coffee shop - Cora was texting him about a boy and he had no clue what to do about it.  
 _  
> Why aren’t you texting Laura about this_

__  
> she was extra not helpful so you help me  
>Derek?  


But when he did look up, he stopped in his tracks. The guy behind the counter was - was something. His mind couldn’t find the right word. He was tall and slender and had his long-sleeve plaid shirt pushed up to his elbows, revealing moles all over his pale skin. He was smiling at the customer in front of him, passing over a cup. She said something and he laughed, and Derek inhaled sharply. Derek made himself keep walking, going around to the back of the line. He looked back down at his phone, frowned, and then pocketed it, looking back up and shifting so he could see the barista again.

He didn’t have a name tag. Derek found himself unreasonably annoyed by that. His eyes kept falling on the guy’s mouth, his lips were full and round and kept moving and smiling and were _fucking distracting._

The line moved up, and Derek took a step, stopping to read the sign on the counter. There was a drawing of a stick figure in chalk, next to some words.

**TODAY, YOUR BARISTA IS:**

**1\. Hella fucking gay.  
2\. Desperately single.**

**FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I RECOMMEND:**

**You give me your number.**

_Holy fucking shit,_ Derek’s mind supplied. _Holy. Fucking. Shit._

There wasn’t any time for Derek to think about it, or what to say, because the guy in front of him moved and the guy was asking him what he could get him to drink. Derek stared blankly for a second.

“Yo, bro? Did you want coffee?” He asked, and Derek shook his head. 

“No. I mean yes. Yes. I’ll have a large iced mocha,” Derek choked out, trying not to look like an idiot. The guy smiled, and turned his back to start on the drink.   
Derek stared, stupidly, at his back and the way his shoulders shifted under his tight shirt. 

“Do you want whipped cream?” He asked, turning back around to lift an eyebrow at Derek.

“What?”

“Whipped cream?” He asked, shaking the can. “You do know what that is right?” There was no menace in his voice, in fact, he was smiling widely at Derek and Derek found himself smiling back. 

“Uh, yeah, sure. Yes.”

The guy turned back around again, whistling something. Derek stared down at the counter again, trying to think of ANYTHING clever to say or a way to give the guy his number without looking like an idiot but his brain was short-circuiting and he had nothing.

“That’s $2.47.” The barista said, putting the drink on the counter. Derek’s eyes shot up, and then down again as he fumbled with his pockets for his wallet. 

“I haven’t seen you in here before,” the barista said. Derek looked up. 

“Uh, no, I just moved back here.”

“Oh, cool. Well you should come in more often.”

Derek smiled, feeling himself blush. “Sure.” He pushed over his credit card, and the barista picked it up, humming the same tune he was whistling before. 

“What is that?” Derek heard himself ask.

“What is what?”

“The song - it sounded familiar.”

The barista shrugged. “Oh. You know, I have no idea, it’s just stuck in my head.” He slid over the receipt and a pen. “Sign here.”

Derek took the pen, and signed his name. Then he looked up at the barista, who had turned and was moving something around beneath the counter. He scribbled his number hurriedly on the bottom of the small paper and shoved it forward. He grabbed the cup, muttered “Thanks,” under his breath, and practically ran out of the shop.

“I cannot BELIEVE I just did that,” he said to himself when he was back in his car. He leaned forward and dropped his head on the steering wheel. Then, there was a tap on the window. Derek looked up to see the barista standing outside his car. Derek went to roll down the window, but thought better of it and just got out of the car entirely.

“Uh, yes?” He asked. The barista guy smirked and held up Derek’s credit card.

“Forgot this.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Derek said, slightly disappointed it was just that.

“It’s not just that,” the barista said, seeming to read Derek’s thoughts. 

“Uh -”

“You wrote this really really small, and I can’t figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, and that’s really important because you are incredibly hot.” The barista held out the receipt Derek had signed, pointing the the tiny numbers under his name.

“Uh -” Derek said again, eloquently. “Uh, okay, yeah, sorry. 6. It’s a 6.”

“Cool. So,” the guy said, putting the paper back in his pocket. 

“Don’t you have like a huge line in there?” Derek said, looking through the window across the street where the coffee shop was. 

“I got Lydia to come out of the back and take over for a minute.”

“Oh. Okay. So.”

“So. Derek, right?” The barista said, holding out a hand.

“Yeah, Derek,” he said, taking the hand and shaking.

“Stiles,” the guy said.

“Stiles?”

“Stiles,” he said again, and Derek could swear he grazed his thumb over Derek’s as he let go. “It’s a nickname of sorts, and kind of a long story. Maybe I could tell you sometime.”

Derek felt his lips smile. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds good.”

“Okay. I’ll text you. Or something,” Stiles said, taking a step back.

“Sure,” Derek said, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“I’ve gotta - I’ve gotta get back.” Stiles cocked his head back towards the shop, and Derek nodded.

“But are you busy tonight?”

Derek’s smile grew bigger and he looked down, embarrassed by the blush he KNEW was all over his face. 

“Uh, no. Are you?”

“No,” the guy - Stiles. Stiles was grinning too, walking backwards towards the shop. “So I’ll text you.”

“Only if you don’t get hit by a car,” Derek said, eying the street behind Stiles. Stiles rolled his eyes, making it all the way to the opposite side, walking backwards the whole time. Derek laughed when he almost tripped over the curb.

“Hey,” Stiles said, pointing a finger. “Not funny.”

“Maybe not funny, but it was cute.” Derek got a warm feeling in his stomach when Stiles blushed and ducked his head. 

“Okay, well, see you - I’ll text you.”

“Okay,” Derek said, leaning back against his car, waving slightly as Stiles went back into the shop. Derek got back in his car, took a long drink of the iced coffee (which was delicious) and pulled the car out of the parking lot, driving towards home.

He smiled again when he realized he was humming the song Stiles had had stuck in his head.


End file.
